We walk to the cross town bus.  We wait on line.  We board  the crowded bus.  Two young girls – Are they  in their teens?  Are they in their early twenties?  What difference does it make? – offer their seats.  I look behind me to see whom they are talking to.  My husband is standing right behind me.  They are getting up.  The seats are empty.  I am confused.  In a split second, the opportunist in me goes for the seats.  I manage to whisper a thank-you but for the duration of the ride back to the hotel I keep asking myself:  Was it my gray roots?  Was it my wrinkled face?  Was it my orthopedic shoes?  

I look down at my feet.  The shoes are cute in an ugly way, I reassure myself.   I remember my girlfriend’s son’s wedding.  It was a black tie affair for the family members.  It was not difficult for me to find a lavender ruched cocktail dress that made my figure look good and brought out my lavender blue eyes.  Then I looked down at my feet.  I did not know what to do.  I had worn cork low heeled sandals to my own daughter’s wedding and that was several years ago.  I went online and ordered a pair of cork bottomed flat silver sandals that I knew were too sporty for the event but what choice did I have?  My husband put on his black sneakers. 

We arrived a few minutes early and I had the opportunity to look at everyone’s feet as they entered the lobby.  I found one woman hiding a pair of silver loafers under a royal blue gown. Another woman had a pair of sneakers under her red sequined pants outfit.  Why isn’t anyone making silver flat comfortable Mary Janes in a stretchy fabric with a glitzy button?   And don’t think I did not beg for something like this when I was at Harry’s.  Naot?  Finn?  Aetrex?  Is anyone listening?